Really Bad Eggs
by Lip Balm
Summary: Jezebel Walker, a pirate captain runs into an ol' 'friend' of hers. Captain Jack Sparrow. Together they sail away on the Pearl, but can they both contain their tempers, or will the end up killing each other along the way...(Put on hold)
1. Prologue

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Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

Salutations ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, eunuchs and such, I bring you a tragic yet humorous COMPLETELY TRUE tale of a she-pirate named Jezebel Walker. And our favorite male pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow, too. 

Many of you may have noticed that I had another story named 'We Pillage We Plunder' with the same character in it, but I've deleted that for the COMPLETELY TRUE fact that it was going no where. 

Now, onto me story. Just the prologue, mind you.

Prologue

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"Jack?" Sandria called into the setting sun, and awaited for a signal. "Parley."

Sandria and Jack had been meeting together every day since the past year that they stumbled into each other at the market place. Jack had been sneaking around, waiting for the right moment to steal a delicious looking pastry that enticed the hungry on a cooling sill. Sandria had purchased the tartlet for him, and they had hit it off since then. 

"Parley, I said parley," Sandria demanded, remembering the code word they had used to play hide and seek. Whoever arrived first in the secret fort would hide until the seeker gave up. "Are you even there?"

Sandria dug her toes into the auburn sand, giving up, creating tiny delicate imprints that were filling with small puddles of clear sea water from the shallow tide. The sun had gone, and there was naught but little firefly stars in the far distance of black and midnight blue. Picking up a smooth, ocean worn stone from the ground she threw it across the water, watching it skip into the distance and disappear. 

She collected a pile of golden wet sand into her hand and watched it sift through her fingers. **Where was Jack? It was dark and father would worry…** Sandria sighed, wondering if Jack had gotten into trouble in town again, and was being reprimanded for trying to steal some snacks from the bakery. Or because he was telling one of his infamous lies to the other children about the dirty scallywags that everyone feared. He was constantly talking about them. 

Pirates, I mean. And soon, Sandria was also sucked into the magical world of pirating. Together they practiced sword fighting with dead branches and learned to control a small fishing boat that was able to go quite a distance. And she had done it without her father knowing, too. 

"I'm goin' to be a pirate like my dad," Jack had explained to Sandria. "When I get older, I'm gonna be a captain. And I'll name my ship something only a scallywag would."

A dreamy look had cast over his eyes every time he mentioned his father, and a dreamy look would cast over Sandria's eyes every time he mention being a pirate. She longed to run away from the world that she clearly belonged in. She wanted to run away with Jack and become pirates, pillage and plunder, whatever that meant, and collect treasure. Such dreams, for such a young head. Sandria was only eight, and Jack was ten. 

"Will you take me with you, Jack?" Sandria had asked hopefully. "I wanna be a pirate too!"

"O'course Sandy," Jack had exclaimed, completely shocked. "Wouldn't go anywhere without ye! And that's a promise."

After each meeting, they would walk home together, singing a pirates song. Jack went back to a stack of hay that always seemed comfortable to him and Sandria would run off home before she got in trouble for coming home after dark. 

Sandria smiled and got up from her sitting position, quickly shaking the memory from out of her ears and back into the ocean where it belonged. She would return the next day, to find Jack hiding in the sea grass with more stories to tell of pirates and sailing away. And then one day, they would sail off together to become scallywags of the blue. 

But Jack never came the next day. Or the day after. In fact, he never returned to see Sandria again.

Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me.   
  
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
We kidnap and pillage and don't give a hoot.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
  
  
Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me.  
  
We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
Maraud and embezzle and even hijack.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
  
Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me.  
  
We kindle and char and inflame and ignite.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
We're rascals, and scoundrels, and villains, and knaves.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs.  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
  
Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me. 

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I hope you liked it. The next chapter will come soon. NOW REVIEW OR IT WON'T BE. :P Remember, you guys motivate me. And I love to hear advice. :] 


	2. Out of Rum!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. 

Greetings again, friends. And this is the second chapter to Really Bad Eggs. Hope you find it an enjoyment so far. I wrote out the first two chapters in math class, so the chapters won't normally be coming out as fast as this.

Respectfully, 

Lip Balm

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The last hour of the day was drawing to a long and tedious close, casting a cliché sunset over the horizon of blue. A number of fishing boats sailed across the azure glass, carrying a bucketful of fish or nothing at all. The tiny crafts bobbed in a tranquil motion on the water. 

Almost as rapid as the day had begun, Port Royale was quiet, and there was no noise audible, but a few bickers of drunken men in a far away corner.

Jezebel Walker felt a pang of nausea as she hugged her knees tighter to her chest. It was awfully cramped in the old pickle barrel, and the sour odor had begun to tweak a nerve. But there was no need to be cramped in the creaky barrel for a moment longer, for the sun had finally set and it was still.

Jezebel stopped squirming and listened. Upon hearing nothing, she lifted the top just a crack and peered out with dark eyes. The coast was clear. She popped the top off and breathed in the salty air, happy to rid of the musty odor. Lifting a leg, she walked out of the ol' circular crate, grabbing a few pickles and shoving them deep inside her pocket. Dinner.

She had been stuck in that tight corner all afternoon and evening, breathing out of a tiny hole, and was forced to listen to old fishermen rant on about the biggest fish they've caught in their life time. Commodore Norrington, the ugly pig, had his men at her tail all day, because Jezebel had tried to steal a few shillings from one of his men's pockets. Picky ol' prune, Norrington was. A pickpocket was just as bad as a pirate to him. Of course, she was one…but he didn't need to know that.

It was completely dark now, and the stars were out, reminding her of the firefly stars back home. There was a screech of something ear splitting from in front of Jezebel, as she walked closer to the dock.

"ERROOOWW."

Jezebel reached for her sword and found it to be missing. It was only a damn cat, too. She had stepped on it's tail, without noticing. Damn cat, it could have attracted some unwanted attention. 

"They took me sword," she said grimly, recollecting of the unpleasant event. "And me hat."

She touched her head, feeling naked and incomplete without the worn, leather, sun-baked thing. Jezebel reached into a small sheath on her thigh, holding her breath and released a sigh when she found nothing.

"And me dagger-DAMN!" Jezebel yelled out, kicking a stone and sending it flying across the dock and straight into the water with a _ker-plunk._

She began to walk towards the town. Surely the Commodores men would have given up searching for her now. Twinkling lights burned into the darkness, something she had not seen for a long time. Legs cramped, she began to stretch them, squinting into the path ahead of her. The dock was rather old and creaky, and Jezebel felt completely vulnerable without her sword. And her dagger. And her hat, mind you. 

"Well, at least it ain't Tortuga," she muttered grimly, remembering the whore infested place. 

Her legs felt weak and tired as they walked rapidly towards the town. She was in need of something quick, and fast.

"A sword would be nice," Jezebel said. "But first, some rum."

A vague look swept through Jezebel's tanned features as she walked staggered towards the mass of lights.

-

"What do ye mean you don't sell rum," Jezebel cried out, pounding a grimy fist on the bar table. "What kind o' tavern sells no rum?"

"We're out, lady. Now go sit down afore I call some men for assistance," said the man calmly, running a hand through a mass of hair. A worried expression occupied his withered face as he glanced into a corner. 

Jezebel sighed, rubbing her eyes irritably, containing her temper and forcing her legs to move towards the empty table in the far crook of the tavern. There was no rum. A terrible event that would top her terrible day. She glanced around the tavern and watched as a few drunken men lolled together, blathering nonsensically with great gesticulation. 

"More rum, more bloody rum," came a voice from the opposite corner. 

A woman carrying two large pitches refilled his mug happily, grazing a finger across his shoulders delicately. 

"Thank ye, lassie," said the voice. "Great rum, yeh know."

Jezebel almost exploded on the spot. How was the man able to receive TWO large pitchers of rum, when herself had gotten none at all. Enraged, Jezebel quickly walked over to the drawling man, who was downing mugs full of rum by the minute. 

"Where did you get that rum," she asked loudly, glaring at the man with kohl traced eyes. 

"This is a tavern, love," the man said as he downed another gulp. 

"I DO believe that the man said the rum was all gone," Jezebel spat, eyeing the rum carefully. It was true, there were two large pitchers, filled to the brim with glorious, glorious rum. 

"That's because me ol' mate o'er there saves a special tank o' rum only for me when I arrive to Port Royale, savvy?" The man said this with a quick lift of his lips, revealing many gold teeth.

Jezebel knew that smile, but her anger was blocking out the familiarity.

"'Ow about you sit yer ass down, lassie," the man said with a subtle roll of eyes. "An' you can 'ave a drink with ol' Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jezebel lifted a mug carefully, cautious as to not let a single beloved drop of rum trickle out. Upon hearing the words escape the mouth of the Jack Sparrow man, the mug slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the floor, spilling the precious rum into a million different directions. 

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'Ope ye liked it. REVIEW OR DIE. Cackle. :P 


	3. Off to the Prison Cells

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Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

Hello again, and welcome to the third chapter of Really Bad Eggs. I hope whoever is reading this is enjoying this fiction so far. If not, then please let me know of how I can improve this story for your pleasure. I am not getting paid to write this, so I would love oblige.

Respectfully,

Lip Balm 

Plateado-Thank you so very much for reviewing. It really is quite an honor, honestly. And everyone go read Plateado's story right now. It is very good. It had me eyes strainin' fer more, it did. 

-

The temperature inside the Tavern was exceedingly warm, and Jezebel felt the same nausea overcome her body as it did in the musty pickle barrel. Remembering, she took two pickles from her pocket and began to eat on the end of one, not bothering to pick up the mug from the ground. 

"What're ye doin' to me rum, lass," Jack inquired gruffly, getting up from his chair and wiping the liquid out of his eyes. "No man, or woman mind you, wastes even a trickle of rum in front of me own eyes."

"What do ye think happened? My fingers slipped," Jezebel said, not bothering to wipe the glorious tasting rum from her face. For a moment there, she thought that she had recognized this strange looking man, and his name, for that matter rang quite a familiar bell in her mind. "Have I tried to kill ye afore?"

Jack Sparrow was quite a peculiar looking being, and he was without question a pirate. A raggedy, tired looking bandana was wrapped across his forehead, and trinkets of all sorts and colors cascaded down from the top of his head. His kohl traced eyes were incredibly dark, and Jezebel could not tell the difference from his iris to his pupil. Jack Sparrow had a long, straight nose and a smart looking mustache, as well as a goatee which was braided into two clumps. He wore a long, shabby shirt which looked as if it had once been white, and a pair of tatty trousers. 

"See anything you like?" Jack asked smugly, with a quick smirk, waving his arms in a swaggering movement. 

"Nothing worth looking at," Jezebel replied, picking up a mug from the table and downing the strong liquid gulp by gulp. Within a few moments, all the liquid in the mug was gone. She reached for another one.

"Slow down, mate," Jack said with wide eyes, suddenly feeling a lot more respect for the woman. "I've ne'er seen a woman down more than a mug of rum in one go."

"You offered me rum," Jezebel slurred, already feeling a bit woozy. She had never felt tipsy after one mug of the liquid, but she put that observation to the side. Jezebel took another bite of her pickle and waved the spare one in front of Jack's face. "And I think I'll take as much as I can of it, eh?"

"Aye, to that, lassie!" Jack declared with great gusto, holding up his own mug and waving it towards a barmaid. "More rum, bring it here." 

"So do ye have a name?" Jack said and watched Jezebel through dark eyes incredulously as she downed another mug and collapsed with her head rested on the dirty table. 

"Aye," came a muffled voice. "Me name's Jezebel"

"No last name, eh? Me names Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack slurred, putting on a leather hat and tipping it towards her direction. 

  
"Already been through that, Yer a captain, eh?" Jezebel queried from underneath the table. Usually she could hold her liquor almost as good as the next pirate, but today was not one such days. "Captain of what…a fishing boat?"

"Nay," Jack said grimly, but with a small spark on his tongue. "The _Black Pearl…"_

"The Black Pearl? You expect me to believe that a…" Jezebel paused to take another swig of rum. "A…puny. Little. Man. Like. You…is captain of the legendary Black Pearl?"

"I'm hurt, love, really," Jack said sarcastically, setting down a few shillings on the table and getting up from his chair. 

The chair squeaked loudly as Jack pushed it back further across the dirt covered ground and swaggered towards the Tavern door. It was just about time for the _Black Pearl _to set sail again. After all, they had only stopped to replenish on their goods. A subtle look of discouragement was displayed on his face. 

Jack headed towards the exit, took a step back, grabbed his hat and walked lopsidedly towards the exit once more. Before he could push the door open, it swung forward with a loud squeak of something very rusty and hit Jack square across his forehead.

Jack, seeing stars on the bridge of his nose toddled back towards his chair and completely missed the seat to fall in a heap of dust right next to Jezebel. 

"You blighter got what you deserved, you lying son of a dog," Jezebel said, getting up from her position and drinking the last drop of her rum. 

"I thank you for bringing yourself to a local Tavern," came a stern voice from behind him. A man with a lean, half sallow face was standing behind Jack with a weapon pointed at his head. He wore a neat, white wig and a dark colored hat. "But I do believe that you have forgotten to heed our warning. No pirates, Mr. Sparrow." 

Jack squinted at the standing man above him, and once recognizing the face, he smiled and said with a slight strain, "Yer welcome, mate. And what makes ye think I'm a pirate?" 

"Well, it was nice chattin' with ye Jack, mate," Jezebel said, quickly recognizing the man with the white wig as Commodore Norrington. "But I think I will be going now."

Jezebel stood up and made towards the door, legs shaky and little purple diamonds popped in front of her face. 

"I will talk to you soon, Commodore. Jack." Jezebel said as she swung the Tavern door open and glanced outside. It was completely dark, and much cooler than inside the Tavern, the air was salty and sweet. The smell of the sea comforted her. Jezebel's eyes quickly adjusted to the shadows. A moment later, she felt the presence of many others surrounding her.

"Get back inside the Tavern, pirate," Gillette said in a sinister voice, prodding her back with the butt of his weapon. Jezebel rolled her eyes subtly before trudging back into the Tavern, just in time to see Jack get handcuffed by another one of Norrington's men. Jack shifted uncomfortably as the man took his effects.

"Come back for some more rum, eh?" Jack asked with a quick smirk, as Norrington grabbed Jezebel's arms harshly and wrapped a chain around it.

"Steady, mate," Jezebel said. "I can't afford to lose an arm, now. Not by the likes of you, anyhow." 

"Keep still, Miss. Walker," Norrington muttered as he prodded her firmly and found no hidden danger within the folds of her clothes. "No sword? No dagger, cutlass...no weapon of any sort? I'm appalled, Miss. Walker, with such a name as infamous as yours, you are a walking target to all danger. Tut, I was expecting a challenge too."

Jezebel growled from the base of her throat, as Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. The other men in the Tavern had quickly lowered their ruckus volume to a low minimum, and was shooting looks of amusement towards their direction. 

"You're Walker, eh? Why didn't you tell me this sooner--"

"Keep walking, Mr. Sparrow," Norrington said snidely. "You know the direction towards the prisons.."

"**Captain **Jack Sparrow…" 

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Hm. Things are going a bit slow right now, but it will pace up. I promise you. 

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	4. Snores and Remembering

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Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean 

Salutations once more. And welcome once more to the story of Jezebel Walker. Ayep, things are going pretty damn slow. I'm really tired. And I've gotten little reviews, but I'm not for complaining. Because I'm determined to finish a fanfic! [It's never happened before..] Please do not be alarmed if I try to change the writing style a bit. I'm just experimenting, yeh know. 

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Respectfully,

Lip Balm 

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-

The night reminded her of the ocean. Sandria wandered along the cobblestone alleyways, peering over her shoulder every few moments to see if anyone was following her. Her mother had sent her out to fetch some bread from the bakery since the maids had all caught the flu and the butler was busy attending to their houseguests. Hearing a twig snap from quite a distance behind her, Sandria quickly turned around and saw a small shadow leaping behind a brick wall.

Startled, she began to run as fast as her little feet and short legs would allow her to. After running quite a distance, she turned a sharp corner towards the bakery and stood at the wall, awaiting whoever was following her. 

Sandria sucked in a huge breath and balled her little fist and sacked it into the stranger's stomach as the mysterious shadow turned the same corner. She then grabbed a handful of sand and thrust it into the stranger's eyes, kicking him/she/it in various places.

"OOF. Are ye crazy?!"

"Who are you?" Sandria asked quietly, dropping the remaining sand left from her hand and onto the cobblestone road.

"Eh? Eh? I can't see. I have sand in me eyes."

"Are you saying that you can't hear because you can't see?" Sandria exclaimed, folding her arms in exasperation. "I said, who are you?"

"I'm Jack Sparrow, now did you have to go on attackin' me like a hellcat?" 

Sandria lowered her eyes, there was a sudden guilt stricken feeling rising from the pit of her stomach. She should have waited to see who it was before attacking him in such a way. 

"So then why were you following me?"

"I was hungry, I only wanted to nick some pieces of bread off your hands," Jack sputtered. 

Sandria stared at Jack, who, to her disbelief, was not hurt at all but only had traces of amber sand scattered like islands across the ridge of his nose and around his eyes. He looked only a bit older than herself, and was the same height as her. Jack wore a large beige shirt made of something that looked a bit like sack cloth and a pair of gray trousers. His hair was black and shoulder length, and in good need of some combing.

"So where are ye goin'?" Jack asked, wiping the excess sand from his eyes.

Sandria ignored the question and stopped in front of a dark green door with a rusty looking sign that stood hanging above it. **Benson's Bakery.** She entered through the door and heard a familiar ring as a round, plump looking man stuck his head out of a curtained entrance.

"Miss. Sandria," said the baker, wiping flour off his face. "Come to here at such a late hour?"

"Good evening, Mr. Benson. My mother wishes you a hello and that your day...night...evening… may go well," Sandria struggled to remember the proper words to use when greeting someone. "She would like to inquire as to whether or not you have a few loaves of bread that I may purchase." 

Benson nodded jovially, his eyes cheery as he stood on top of his toes to reach a loaf of bread on top of a counter. He turned around subtly with a wink and said, "Who's your lad mate there, Miss. Sandria?"

Sandria turned around and saw Jack leaning against the Bakery wall, eyeing a berry tartlet that was set out to cool on the window sill. A playful smile tugged at the end of his lips as he walked towards the sill, arms stretched out towards the delicious looking pastry. 

"Here you are, Miss. Sandria. Wish your mother the greatest of luck," Benson said as he bagged a couple of loaves of bread and handed the package to her. 

"Mr. Benson, could I have that tartlet cooling on the windowsill?" Sandria asked quickly, eyeing Jack with watchful eyes. She took out a velvet purse and fished out a few coins. Setting the coins down on the counter, she picked up the still warm tartlet from the windowsill before Jack could have stolen it, jumped out of the window and left with a quick head start. 

"O' course, Miss. Sandria," Benson said gently, picking up the coins from the counter. Before Sandria and Jack could hear what he was saying, they hurried out of the door, leaving the ringing bell behind them. 

Sandria walked onto the cobblestone road once more, carefully wrapping her arms around the loaves of bread and the tartlet that was steaming in the cold air. 

"So, Sandy…" Jack said, tucking strand of hair behind his ears. "How about you share a bite, eh?"

-

Jezebel Walker opened her eyes with a start, she was having a peaceful, dreamless sleep and something incredibly loud and deafening was roaring inside her ears. Turning her head she looked straight into the face of Jack Sparrow, who was snoring like a roll of thunder. She then remembered that they were locked inside the same prison cell and had fallen asleep after a night of rum.

That's when the hang over kicked in. Sighing, she rubbed her temples and looked over at the puddle of vomit that was in the far corner. _Never had she thrown up after some rum. She could hold her liquor better than anyone she knew._

Jezebel began to slap her own forehead, trying to rid of the headache that was splitting her skull down the middle. Realizing that it was doing no good, she reached over to Jack and slapped him hard across the face. The noise stopped abruptly. _There, that made her headache feel much better. _

"Not sure I deserved that," he muttered, wiping pieces of straw from his cheek. "Walker?"

"Nay," Jezebel said, rolling her eyes. "I be the Captain of the _Black Pearl_." 

"Well that's funny, I'm the Captain of the _Black Pearl_," Jack said with a smirk and a triumphant swell of his chest.

"O' shut it already," Jezebel said in annoyed tone. "'Ow are we goin' to get out o' here?" 

"All in good time, Captain Walker," Jack said, glancing out of the barred windows in time to see William Turner bend a swift corner. "All in good times, Captain Walker."

"So ye've heard of me, eh?" Jezebel said. "'Ow's that?"

"Aye, I've known your name for some time, Walker. Captain of _The Dominator_, eh? I hear yer ship be rotting at the bottom of the ocean. Captured by some savages, pity." 

"Don't remind me, Sparrow." Jezebel spat. "I get tired of listening to my mistakes repeated again and again."

Jezebel reached into her pocket and took out her last pickle, chewing on the end thoughtfully. _How in the hell were they going to get out of there? The bars were firmly planted onto the ground and the walls were made of sturdy wood. She had no effects, he had no effects. _

"So, Walker…" Jack said interrupting her thoughts and tucking strand of hair behind his ears. "How about you share a bite, eh?"

Jezebel widened her eyes as a familiar thought clicked inside her mind. Smiling in mock, she threw the pickle onto his chest harshly and lunged towards him, eyes clouded with anger that she had not experienced since her ship had been stolen from her hands. 

"JACK SPARROW, YOU BAST-"

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Meh…review? J 


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